


life among the stars

by aspen (taesdata)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Bad Parenting, Body Image, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon Queer Character, Car Accidents, Death, F/F, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, Late Night Conversations, Not Happy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Ending, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Strained Relationships, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22345687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taesdata/pseuds/aspen
Summary: mia has never been one to step out of the carefully planted boundaries she had set on her own life, of course this all changed when she met theo.
Relationships: mia and theo - Relationship
Kudos: 5
Collections: Bisexual Visibility, Non-Binary Characters, Queer Characters Collection, gay, wlw





	1. introduction

what does it mean to die? we remember death as someone leaving us, but if someone has no one to leave, did they ever really die?

even the stars have someone to leave.to think that even the stars die, it’s comforting. to know that stars, an ancient life associated with beauty and light can exhaust itself to when it collapses and fades away. i remember writing this once, to feel okay for what I was going to do. i remember tearing it out because this could never be comforting to me the same way it was to the stars. i was never associated with beauty and light, i cannot be remembered the same way a burned out star would be.


	2. chapter 2

looking out for things was just what mia did. she looked out for the stars whenever she went on drives alone. she looked out for the small dog on the corner of sherman and davis. she looked and looked and looked, but was never quite sure what she was searching for. she later figured, she was looking for a way to belong in her own life. 

mia had always been alone, not lonely. she drew a firm line between the two, not to be associated with the other. to be alone, was what she wanted now. she wanted the solace of her own thoughts, the books she read, the absent mother she came to, refilling the medication of that day and leaving her with a peck on the forehead. and the quiet scribble of mia’s pencil on paper. she could remember when things were different, before her father had left her. it had taken time to figure out, and mia had always been one for optimism. she remained waiting for her father, until waiting became a dangerous game. waiting almost took her away from the last place that made her belong. waiting, mia decided, was something she didn’t do. she filled herself up with the art she drew but never showed. she filled herself up with her mother’s old bike, left there without its owner. mia filled and filled until she decided there’d always be a place empty, perhaps taken by her father when he left. she asked herself the question one day, “if he had come back, would I had finally been filled?” mia still hasn’t decided if she’d want to know the answer to that question. 

walking to sherman and davis to get the weekly meat order. like most things in her life, this action was routine. seeing the butcher smile at her and ask her how her mother was doing before mia would nod and smile, assuring that she was well. he would tell her it’d be on the account as he’d ring her up, and the door would ring as she left. 

she’d stop for a moment to look at the dog at the corner, most definitely a stray. the brown and white of her fur was matted, a negligence case turned to abandonment. mia thought she and this dog shared more in common than she did with anyone in this town. she’d throw the dog a piece of meat and watch him nibble a bit. she’d smile to herself a bit, and wish that the dog could come home with her. but always left with shaking her head. something that disturbs routine couldn’t be good. 

but constantly, the urge to leave her town always came over her, like the constancy of an ocean’s wave washing up on the shore, mia would always want to leave. daydreaming about her departure became an often occurrence to where it too, was now routine. she dreamed of seeing the world, to see new faces and understand what it means to be ‘alive’, she dreamed of finally getting away from the things that made her feel empty, like her mother’s hollow stare when she got out of bed, or the constant reminder that she truly had no one. 

she had no one. 

she’d repeat this mantra making her way quietly to her house, tip-toeing around the neighborhood, not wanting to be stopped again. she would come into her house safely and put the meat in the icebox and draw. and then she’d draw. she would draw and draw and draw until it was dark, and her feelings of that day were all on paper. mia had decided that talking what she felt was worse. she wouldn’t want to let her words, those empty words sit out in the open. but where she didn’t speak, the open rawness of her art spoke more to her voice ever could, comforting her in a way only she could understand. even in the dark, she’d never sleep. she had decided that she belonged to the night sky. in a layer of darkness, she could ride her mother’s bike and ride it as long as she pleased. she would ride to see the stars, to see the suburbia that she had been living in but had never been able to call home. she knew, no matter how well she knew it, it would never be home like it was before. was it even home? her head swirled with the questions she had always asked with the silence. and with each question she made her way back home.

will i ever be myself again?   
pedal.   
will i ever have a home again?   
pedal.   
when will i feel again? 

pedaling closer and closer to the prospect of sleep. to sleep, was to see the ‘what-ifs.’ this one part of mia’s day lacked routine. her dreams would change every night, and mia had decided that too, had become routine. she’d lay her head down, close her eyes and let herself drift off into what could’ve been.

༊*·˚

mia couldn’t recall a time where she ever felt apart of something. she could assume that everyone had a family to feel apart of, but what is a family when care and love is provided one-way? friends felt like a countdown to be around, when would they tire of each other and inevitably ruin each other’s routine they’d created within each other’s lives? friends couldn’t and would never be apart of mia’s life. she’d leave school quietly, the work given to her was enough to keep her busy, and work of course, was routine. work kept her grounded in the life she wanted to float away from. work was the one grace that kept her from falling too deep. work kept her away from being discovered, but never quite let her disappear.

this was how she lived her life, stepping into the background, never quite leaving the scenery, and staying there long enough to become a sight that was familiar enough, a sight that no one would question. her life was hidden, and she supposed people knew of her and the mother that was never quite the same, but no one truly knew her or her life, and to her, that was all she wanted. her life was one that didn’t deserve to be someone else’s. the childhood she had lived through was one of misery, not even sure if her youth was a ‘childhood’, the many things children would’ve done before growing up and transitioning to adulthood were simply just fantasies for mia. rather than hearing her mother and father share a secret smile over dinner, or look at each other with a knowing gaze when mia learned new things to show them, she’d receive the absolute opposite. she longed for a familial love, to be able to come home and see her dad on the couch, watching tv with her mother making dinner. but instead, she’d only ever hear muffled screams from a closed door. her life had always felt like this, she’d stand in front of a closed door, nothing from the other side could never be heard clearly, but the hollow feeling in her stomach was inescapable and staying away seemed the best. this worked for the most part, of course, until the only person left for her mother to scream at when her father left was mia. 

coming home, a small shuffle of steps could be heard as mia would head towards her mother’s bedroom. she’d always try to keep quiet around her mother. it wasn’t as if she didn’t love her, she did, but the authenticity of her love was always hard to define. was love the look her mother would give to her as she cooked dinner for the both of them? was love the feeling she felt whenever she felt as if leaving her mother? and then came the association of love, with guilt. neither could exist without the other, and to feel guilt, was scary. it consumed her, everytime she felt out of line. guilt kept her in check, it controlled her life. her guilt made her stay, and she knew that to keep herself here, she’d need to continue ‘loving’ this way. 

her mother was awake this time, her soft eyes following mia as she walked around the crowded bedroom, avoiding piles of used clothes on the floor. she retrieved her mother’s pills out of the container she’d keep them in for her. walking to the side of her mother’s bed, she handed her a glass of water and the medication she’d need to keep her from doing anything she’d regret.

this was as far as their relationship went, empty stares, a handing of pills, and perhaps the brush of a thumb here and there. this woman would never be and would never feel like her mother. 

her mother swallowed her pills, sipping water before asking “how was school?”

“it was alright. i’m going to do my schoolwork before bed.” mia answered, keeping her responses short and letting on she’d rather not have this conversation go anywhere else. 

“mia, darling” her mother began-

no. no. no. this is what she wished to avoid. she knew where this was going and knew she could not do this. she physically could not bear to hear her mother tell her how “hard this year must’ve been for her” and “how grateful she is she has her”. this was not routine. as much as she longed for adventure, the difficulty of navigating around her mother’s hollow words was a feat that was too much for her. 

quickly retracing her steps to the entrance of the bedroom, she held onto the frame looking back at her mother, responding quietly, “no, mom, it’s okay. i have schoolwork, okay? i’ll see you later.” 

every bit of regret tinged her mother’s words, “mia-” she said, barely raising her voice in hopes it’d reach her daughter. 

but mia did not hear her mother’s calling out, and as she shut the door quietly, she walked slowly, letting herself retrieve her bag and began to bring out that day’s work, methodically recalling everything she’d learned and writing it down. her work brought her back, her routine brought her back. and the lack of words kept her in check. 

she’d ponder over her relationship with words constantly, the words she thought in her head and the words she’d scream through her art were so powerful, and to bring either of them out into the world could mean so much, too much. her words would always have the capacity to change everything she had ever known. she could remember the words thrown at her when her father had walked out the door, instead of comfort from the last person meant to make her feel safe, her mother confirmed every worst fear of hers. 

“it’s your fault he left.”   
“if you were better, he would’ve stayed.”   
“you took him away from me.” 

medication ended up helping her mother stop the words that she never meant from entering the world, but that didn’t mean they didn’t lurk around in mia’s head everyday. the words repeated over and over again, reminding her why she had to stay. 

because he left. because she couldn’t be good enough for her father.

those words defined her entire life, and had come to shape the cage that kept mia in the state she was in now. and she pondered when someone would come and change her life all over again, and when words would become her greatest enemy, a constant threat to the only life that had kept her safe and at risk all at once. 

༊*·˚

as mia finished up her schoolwork early that day, she decided to get a headstart on dinner. the event was always a point of contention, quiet stares passed around between mia and her mother, before the two would look down at their plates to continue eating. neither could ever find the right words to say, and rather let the silence between them become comfortable and easy. 

as mia took out the thawed meat she had put there a few hours ago, deciding on frying the meat, adding the bare amount of pepper and salt. even some paprika, if she was feeling bold. mia knew very well she should learn to cook, but imagining how much it would take away from her day, her art, and most importantly, her night-rides, she decided against it. cooking seemed fun, but it’d be too much for her to handle, and instead, she chose to find shortcuts that made her seem much better than she actually was. she’d never admit it, but instant mashed potatoes were actually a special vice of hers. god knows what chemicals and diseases she’d get from the powder used to make it, but damned if she was, the mashed potatoes were the best thing she’d ever had for dinner. 

mia promptly finished dinner, mashed potatoes and all, and as she ventured to her mother’s room, she was surprised to see her already standing about, looking in the mirror, combing through her hair. 

mia started, voice quiet, “there’s dinner now.” 

“i’ll be right there,” her mother said, just as quiet, moving towards her nightstand to pick up a stray hair-tie, mia turning her back as she walked away.

while sitting in the dining room, she got a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. she knew it was most likely because on a normal day, she would wake her mother to the food she had made, but today she was already up. she tried not to think about it, but the very idea of something changing made her insides shift around, an entire feeling of ‘wrong’ settling down within her. 

mia tried to shake it off, her mother approaching the table and the food. she scooped up one piece of the chicken mia had made, adding a spoonful of mashed potatoes. mia soon followed suit, of course, with more mashed potatoes than her mother.

“were you able to finish your schoolwork?” 

mia internally sighed, she guessed they were attempting a conversation at dinner, like most ‘normal’ families did, but she thought they were over trying to be like them. 

“it was alright, it was quick. i made dinner earlier.” she replied, her eyes glued to the plates, and their baby blue lining on the edges, the color soothing her, as opposed to looking at her mother’s piercing yet hollow green eyes.

“do you have any other plans after dinner?” 

mia’s eyes narrowed, did she now about the night-rides? her thoughts raced as she asked, voice low, “you’ve never cared before, why now?” this being said out of complete fear, she’d never told anyone about her night-rides, most definitely not her mother.

her mother’s gaze met hers, a look that was completely unreadable. “i’m your mother and when i ask you something, i want an answer. where are you going after dinner?” 

mia felt her face get red and hot. not only was her mother taking away any idea or hope of a future outside of this town, of the town that was never hers, she was trying to take away the only thing that made her feel better about it. 

“i’m not going to answer to someone who can barely remember to take their own meds” mia said, her voice firm. she wasn’t one to speak out like this, but night-rides were just too important, they were a must. 

“mia, i am your mother. it is my job to take care of you, and you need to respect me for that.” 

“you never quite did that job right, did you? who do you think takes care of this house? even he does better, at least he sends money to help cover us.” mia was much louder than she normally was, she could feel 3 years worth of anger rising in her, an unpacifable force. 

“you know i don’t like you talking about him. he isn’t your father.” 

“he was a better parent, and he didn’t even stay!” mia yelled, “he did so much more than you could ever do, and i was left with this life, do you think i want this?” mia felt herself screaming, her mother retracting with the harshness of her daughter’s words. 

“mia, i won’t tolerate this. what’s gotten into you? you’ve never been this blatantly disrespectful of me and all that i do for you.” 

“all that you do for me?” she said sarcastically, before stopping herself, “no, i can’t- i just can’t be here.” 

as mia ran towards the door, she heard her mother yelling, “come back here now!” deciding to ignore it, she flung the door open and hopped onto her bike, her hair whipping around in the night as she pedaled away from her house, her mother, and the words that she had never meant to say out-loud. 

mia pedaled out to the coastal roads, her town was set along a rocky beach, narrow roads built upon massive cliffs. she never went this far, fear of falling off the edge or getting so far she may never want to come back. 

and maybe in that moment she never would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, first chapter nerves!! i hope you all enjoy this chapter, i'm not the best at writing but i am doing the best to improve! give me any critiscm in the comments >:D


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